


Feeding Martin

by Pink_Dalek



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_Dalek/pseuds/Pink_Dalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas and Carolyn become concerned about Martin’s eating habits and health. With Carolyn unable to pay him, they find other ways to make sure he has healthy food. And Martin finds a way to pay them back.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeding Martin

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-Season Four. For a prompt on the CP Meme.

“Carolyn, you really need to start paying the lad,” Douglas said quietly. 

“I know, Douglas. I’ve done the books every way I can think of, and I just can’t squeeze anything out for him. Not paying him wasn’t supposed to go on this long. If he was any other pilot, he’d have fled to a proper paying job long ago. God knows he has the hours and experience now.”

They were standing at one of the portacabin windows, watching Martin do the walk-around. He was no thinner than usual, just somewhat paler and rather unhealthy looking.

The flight to Lyon and back was a short hop by their standards. In between word games, Douglas mused over what to do for Martin. By the time they returned to Fitton he had an idea. The main problem was Martin’s pride. Anything that even remotely smacked of charity would get the other man’s hackles up. But he thought he had a way around that.

*****

“I can’t eat a whole loaf before it starts to lose flavor and go stale,” Douglas said innocently. “So after I had them slice it, I asked them to put half in a second bag. It should be good for at least three days.” He placed the bag on Martin’s desk.

“You could freeze it,” Martin told him, even as he gazed longingly at the plump half-loaf. Douglas had brought in bread from the new bakery near the edge of Fitton. All of their breads were delicious, from the exotic varieties to the humble everyday ones, and he’d watched Martin close his eyes to savor a slice several times when he’d brought some to work or along on a trip. 

“I’ve never liked the taste of bread that’s been frozen.”

“Well, if you’re sure—“

“Absolutely.”

Toasted cinnamon-raisin bread for breakfast was a lovely way to wake up in the morning, Martin reflected the next day.

*****

“Pineapples were two for one at the shop yesterday. Arthur loves them, but his eyes were bigger than his stomach and he won’t be able to finish both before they go soft. Would you like one?”

“If it would go to waste otherwise, Carolyn.”

“It would. Enjoy it.”

*****

“Do you ever go to the farmers’ market?” Douglas asked one afternoon on standby.

“Not often.”

“I like to, everything’s fresh, and I enjoy talking to the people who grow it. I attempted a vegetable garden once, and came away with a deep respect for people who can actually grow anything edible. And this time of year, a stroll through a farmers’ market is a lovely way to spend a Saturday morning. Would you like to come with me this week? If you haven’t a job lined up and we’re still on standby?”

“Well, er—.“

“It’s settled, then. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Martin felt odd and awkward, trailing alongside Douglas and carrying Douglas’s extra shopping bag. And he was hungry, surounded by all of this lovely fruit and veg, the colors, the scents. Douglas was only making it worse. He chose by touch and smell, and seemed to want to share every discovery with Martin.

“Smell these peaches. And just the right bit of give. I’ll take a half-dozen.” Three went into Martin’s bag.

“Perfect courgettes. Four please.” Two went into Martin’s bag.

“Smell these peppers! I have the perfect recipe.” The peppers were divided up in their turn. “I’ll email it to you later.” 

“There’s no way I can get through an entire bunch of carrots.” The shopping bag Martin was carrying was getting rather heavy by this point.

“They make the best cinnamon rolls at this booth. I could eat an entire one, but really shouldn’t. Care to share with me? The coffee’s merely so-so, although next to the witches’ brews Arthur subjects us to, it’s the nectar of the gods.”

A little before one o’clock, Martin found himself deposited outside the student house with a bag brimming with fresh produce. He’d tried to argue with Douglas, until the older man’s temper flared slightly. “I can’t eat all of that before it goes bad, and I hate to waste food. I always buy too much. Just take it, for god’s sake!”

He had just put it all away and was biting into a peach when his phone pinged. It was the promised email from Douglas, with the recipe. It was a stir-fry, calling for the peppers, courgettes, and carrots. He could pair it with some of the pasta he already had in his cupboard.

*****

“When did you start taking payment in meat?” Douglas inquired wryly as they looked into the large cooler.

“Arthur helped his daughter move into her flat for a summer internship, and he wanted to do something for us. He raises pigs, so he offered us a side of pork. What on Earth are Arthur and I to do with a side of pork? At least he divided it up into parts, or I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

“If you slow-cook the shoulder with a bit of water, it’s really quite good,” Martin told her helpfully. One of his ag students worked at the hog barn, and got to bring meat home sometimes. A pork shoulder had provided quite the household feast one Sunday at the student house, and they’d eaten the rest during the week on marked-down rolls Martin had contributed.

“Perfect. You know what to do with it, and I don’t and don’t have the patience.” Carolyn dumped the large, paper-wrapped object into Martin’s arms, and he nearly dropped it in surprise.

“I can’t eat a whole pork shoulder!”

“I’m sure you can. Freeze some of it.”

Martin stared at the pork shoulder when he got home. Over the last several weeks, Douglas had invited/dragged him along to the farmers’ market on Saturdays if they were in town, and he always ended up with an overflowing bag of produce and half a cinnamon roll for breakfast. Then there were the half-loaves from the bakery; Carolyn and Douglas were taking turns giving him those. Douglas kept bringing him leftovers, with the excuse that he’d been cooking for two for so long he’d forgotten how to cook for one. And then there were all of the meats and cheeses Carolyn was finding on sale, or that ‘Arthur bought too much of.’ She’d never let Arthur do much of the shopping before.

They were feeding him, he’d quickly realized, but making it look like he was doing them the favor. On the one hand, it bothered his pride something awful, but on the other hand, he was feeling so much better these days. He had more energy, his skin had more color, and the van jobs were less of a burden. Even his hair was healthier. Turning them down made him feel petty, rude, and ungrateful. And he supposed it was a way for Carolyn to reimburse him for flying her plane. Sort of a barter system. Although that didn’t explain why Douglas was doing it.

He narrowed his eyes and a small grin touched his face. He could play this game, too.

*****

“I brought lunch for everyone.”

“Ooh, what is it, Skip?”

“Remember the pork shoulder your Mum gave me a couple of days ago?” Arthur nodded. “It’s really good on rolls for sandwiches. And I couldn’t eat all of it by myself.”

The sandwiches were pronounced ‘excellent,’ ‘delicious,’ and ‘really really brilliant.’

“It reminds me of the pulled pork sandwiches they have in the States, pretty much wherever they do barbecue,” Douglas said.

Martin then introduced Douglas to his “connection for the freshest eggs you’ve ever tasted.” During the school year, he and the students pooled their money for common items, and eggs from Professor Eggie, as they called her, were one of those items. She was an agronomy professor and kept the chickens as a hobby. The chickens had responded to her doting by producing so many eggs she’d finally started selling them. Martin’s students had introduced him to Professor Eggie. Douglas rhapsodized over the omelet he’d made with some of his first batch of eggs. 

Thanks to his coworkers’ contributions, Martin’s food budget had eased up to where he could spend his money on milk and fresh butter, along with staple items. So he was prepared when berry season hit with a vengeance, and his co-workers found themselves deluged with muffins and freezer jams. And come the cold, dreary days of winter, he was going to have homemade berry jam for his toast every morning, which could make even clearance bread taste good. It made him smile just to think about it.

*****

“I never meant for him to reciprocate,” Douglas muttered one afternoon as he and Carolyn gathered up the latest jars of preserves Martin had made for them, along with loaves of courgette bread. “It figures he would, though.”

“Don’t complain. He’s as pink and hearty as Arthur these days, though thankfully not as cheery.”

“And his cooking lacks Arthur’s lethality.” Douglas juggled little jars. “Here. You take a couple extra. My freezer’s getting full.”


End file.
